


You Save Me

by AcesOfSpade



Series: Vindell Takeover [2]
Category: Alphas, Bones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Experimentation, First Kiss, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mistaken Identity, Vincent is Gary, Vincent is an Alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcesOfSpade/pseuds/AcesOfSpade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vincent Nigel-Murray was kidnapped three years ago after being shot by Jacob Broadsky. Wendell Bray never stopped looking for his best friend. It took three years, four months, and twelve days for Wendell to find him, but what he finds isn't what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. Over 5k words written in about eight hours. Longest one-shot I have _ever_ written. Of course it's a Vindell fic. And now I've slowly drowned in Alphas because of the lovely Ryan Cartwright, so this thing happened.

Wendell had spent three years trying to find him. Three years of constant distraction from work, three years of no social life. He had a cork board on his bedroom wall with clues and news clippings pinned to it, white string connecting everything. It was his main focus now, his main reason to keep going. He had Booth and Caroline low-key helping him, because they both knew what this meant to him, knew what _he_ meant to Wendell.

 

See, three years, four months, and twelve days ago (Wendell is totally not counting), Wendell's best friend was kidnapped. He had been on his way to the hospital after sustaining a near-fatal gunshot wound to the chest when the ambulance took a few different turns, and no one was able to follow. It should've raised some red flags when the paramedics told them that no one could ride to the hospital with him, but they were all to distraught to notice. Since then, Wendell has been combing over every piece of evidence. It wasn't Broadsky who arranged it, that he was sure of. He had CD recordings of every ransom tape in the first six months, before they stopped. He had pictures, he had crime scene photos, he had witness statements all pinned up on this little bulletin board above his bed.

 

Everyone around him at the Jeffersonian was worried about him. He was coming in to work in a state of disarray, usually late and yawning. No one wanted to try and talk to him though, because they knew that even after this long, he was still hurting. He refused to believe Vincent was dead. He chose to believe they patched him up and kept him for _something_. Most of the somethings he could think of someone wanting Vincent for sent a shiver down his spine. He never liked to think about it, but he knew he had to.

 

Finally, _finally_ , Wendell thought he was close. Angela had been helping him get a voice match on the ransom tapes the entire time. It took them a year and a half to realize there were two voices, both males presumably in their forties. As of then, they had a match for one of the voices: Doctor Vijal Singh. The other was still a mystery, someone off the grid and unknown.

 

Wendell had convinced Sweets to come with him to the place Singh worked at in New York, a place called Binghamton. Sweets wanted to profile the doctor, as well as get a little more work in the field. He knew Wendell was hurting and full of anger, so he offered to go with him to make sure he didn't kill anyone.

 

The drive to New York was silent, Wendell sitting shotgun, staring out the window. Sweets refused to let Wendell drive; he was much too angry to focus on driving. Instead, he was focusing on the clouds as they rolled past, watching them change shape and density. His mind wasn't exactly on the clouds though, rather on the idea that he may see him again. They had brought a picture of him, in true FBI fashion. Sweets had a badge, while Wendell was just going to be the consultant.

 

As they pulled up to the facility, Wendell pulled himself out of his state of drifting thought, shaking hi head to clear his mind of as much anger as possible so he could appear professional.

 

Coming to a stop, Sweets made sure he had his badge before stepping out. Wendell followed after, adjusting his flannel shirt and jacket to appear less like he'd slept in them for a week. It was actually only three days, but still, he needed to look professional.

 

Sweets lead Wendell to the main lobby, walking towards the secretary at the front.

 

“Excuse me, sir?” Sweets said politely. “We would like to speak to Dr. Singh.”

 

The secretary looked adamant, his brows furrowing and mouth curving down in a slight frown. “And who are you to ask without an appointment?” he asked.

 

Pulling out his badge, Sweets flipped it open and showed it to the secretary. “FBI, Dr. Lance Sweets. My associate and I are working a kidnapping case.”

 

The secretary raised his eyebrow in Wendell's direction, almost begging for an introduction. His dark eyes unnerved Wendell, sent a chill down his spine.

 

“Wendell Bray.” he said simply. “I'm the forensics expert on the case.” There, simple enough. He hoped he didn't sound too angry or emotional. A side glance at Sweets gave him confirmation that he sounded professional.

 

“Dr. Singh is in his office. I'll call him down.” the secretary said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He started typing, the clicking of the keys almost sounding agonizing to Wendell.

 

The secretary turned back to the pair, giving them a sharp nod. “Dr. Singh will be down in five minutes. Wait over there.” he aid, gesturing towards a set of chairs they assumed were the waiting room. They sat down in the chairs, Wendell's left leg shaking up and down in nerves. Sweets was trying to calm him down, but his words were lost on the blonde. He was too far gone, too far into his revere of thought and emotion.

 

Finally, Dr. Singh came down, the secretary pointing him in their direction. He adjusted his tie and fixed his glasses as he walked over. He seemed intimidating, in a scientist sort of way. Wendell knew that air, being around Dr. Brennan most of the time. He has neatly combed black hair and disconcerting brown eyes. He looked like he could kill you slowly and painfully without leaving evidence, which was unnerving to Wendell.

 

“Dr. Sweets, Mr. Bray.” he said shortly. “What brings you to my research facility?”

 

Sweets stood up, flattening his jacket. “We're here about a kidnapping case, actually.” he said, keeping an even tone to our voice. “We were wondering if you knew this man.” he added, unfolding the picture from his pocket.

 

Smiling at Dr. Singh was a pale face with childish features, round blue eyes, and a mess of dark brown hair. The man in the picture wore a neatly pressed white dress shirt, a black tie, khaki dress pants, and a pale blue lab coat, the Medico-Legal logo displayed on his chest. Sweets could see Dr. Singh's face switch to a momentary, miniscule look of fear and regret before he shook his head.

 

“Can't say I do.” Dr. Singh lied. Sweets knew, knew he was lying. His tone and body language suggested it, as well as his inability to look away from the picture.

 

“I don't think that's true.” Sweets said, a hint of knowledge and power to his usually child-like voice.

 

“His name is Gary Bell.” Dr. Singh relinquished. “He's a patient of mine.”

 

Wendell's eyebrows shot into his messy hairline, teal eyes narrowing. He didn't say anything, not trusting his level of anger and resentment. His name wasn't Gary. It was _Vincent_. Either this guy was lying again, or something had happened.

 

“Interesting. Is it possible for us to have a chat with Gary?” Sweets asked. There was truth to the statement, as well as an element of dishonesty. Dr. Singh definitely knew something about the disappearance and was hiding it. Sweets was going to keep pushing, never one to back down when matters included friends and co-workers.

 

“I can see if he's up for talking. See, Gary is autistic.” Dr. Singh stated. “He doesn't particularly like new people and has no concept of social cues.”

 

It was Sweets' eyebrows' turn to raise into his hairline, but he was better at hiding his confusion and shock. Maybe this Gary was a different person altogether. Regardless, he wanted to talk to him, see if he knew anything about their missing friend.

 

Dr. Singh excused himself, heading into the building. Ten minutes later, he returned with a man who looked eerily like their friend, but dressed much differently and fidgeted with his hands. They seemed to be twisting and flicking something invisible, almost like working a touch screen in midair. He looked up at the duo in front of him, a look of confusion on his face.

 

“You look familiar.” he said, his childish, very American tone surprising Wendell as much as the words did. “Both of you. Do I know you?” he asked, his hands flicking and twisting again. His hand movements kind of reminded Wendell of the touchpad for the Angelatron, which was eerie.

 

Before either could answer, Gary spoke for them. “Dr. Lance Sweets, FBI. Wendell Bray, Jeffersonian intern.” he rambled. “You're looking for a missing person, a friend of yours.” he added.

 

Sweets and Wendell frowned slightly. How did he know that? Clearly Dr. Singh hadn't told him, as Wendell never mentioned his Jeffersonian connections.

 

Noticing their confusion, Gary explained. “I can see wavelengths.” he said. “I can interact with them, like Wi-Fi signals, text messages, and ongoing phone calls. I like security feeds best. They're fun.”

 

Their eyebrows didn't seem to want to come back to where they belonged at that, which made Gary sigh.

 

“Do you know who the X-Men are?” Gary asked, trying to find a suitable analogy. “I'm like one of those mutants, but we call ourselves Alphas.” he tried explaining. “We all have our own unique powers. Rachel has really good senses, Nina can control people's minds, Bill is super strong, and I can see and control wavelengths.” he rambled, hands never ceasing to move.

 

Were those people his friends here? Rachel, Nina, and Bill? Wendell was starting to believe this was really a different person, one who wasn't his best friend. However, something happened that tore a small hole in his blanket of doubt.

 

“Did you know the Chinese throw away 900 million chopsticks every year?.” Gary said out of the blue. “Or that the international dialling code for Antarctica is 627?”

 

Wendell felt a small twinge in his heart, one of hope. He had told Cam and Wendell the first fact, and Cam had told him the second. Maybe there was hope that he was still in there, hope that he was still alive.

 

“I actually did.” Wendell commented. “A friend told me.”

 

Gary made a face, one that was undecipherable to Sweets. It subsequently had no emotion and held all kinds of it. “His name was Vincent?” he said, more of a question. Wendell nodded, wondering where this was going. Dr. Singh had wandered off to go see another patient, leaving the three of them alone. “I've had these dreams, about a scientist named Vincent.” he commented airily, as if remembering one of those dreams. “He was British.” he chuckled softly. “I wish I was British.”

 

Wendell's face took up a look of hope, no matter how small. Sweets leaned forwards in his chair, listening intently to what Gary was saying.

 

“He was 21, at least, he was when I started dreaming about his life. I was 21 too, so I thought it was funny.” Gary went on. “He had a lab coat, and a best friend, and a little sister named Susan. He was pretty nice. I learned facts from him.”

 

The look on Wendell's face grew, ever so slightly. He took the picture from Sweets, showing it to Gary. “This him?” he asked curiously, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 

Gary gave a nod, smiling. “That's him! How did you get a picture?” he asked, smile dropping in favour of a look of confusion. “He's only in my head!”

 

Sweets took a deep breath, taking over the explanation so Wendell wouldn't get emotional. “His name is Vincent Nigel-Murray.” he began. “Vincent was a friend of ours who went missing nearly four years ago. He was a scientist, an intern for the Jeffersonian Institute's Medico-Legal team.” He stopped to let Gary take in what he was being told, his blue eyes widening.

 

“He was _very_ British.” Wendell commented fondly. “He liked to tell random facts about things nobody cared about.” A lazy, small smile had worked its way across his face as he thought about him. He seemed to be staring into space, just sitting there.

 

“Wendell here was his best friend.” Sweets continued, gesturing to the blonde beside him. “He and Vincent were very close.” he added, a small, knowing smirk on his face. _Close, yeah, maybe a little too close_ he thought.

 

Gary stopped moving his hands in favour of pushing the heels of his hands against his temples, as if something was hurting his head. In fact, something was. Unknown to him, Dr. Singh had placed a microchip in Gary's brain, one that was meant to pick up chatter about the man who looked like him and send out a piercing shriek to distract him from retaining the information. He could see the wavelength of the chip, but he didn't know where it was. He tried following it, but he always got turned around and confused. Maybe that was the hum he kept hearing!

 

Sweets frowned, noticing the sudden change in demeanour. “Are you alright, Gary?” he asked calmly and kindly, concern evident on his face. Whether or not this was him, Sweets was always concerned for people around him.

 

“My head... it hurts. There's this... there's this noise, like a siren.” Gary said, voice strained and fearful. His eyes were wide in terror, his hands gripping his hair. “It won't stop! It won't stop!”

 

Wendell snapped out of his state of mind when he heard the panic in Gary's voice. “What kind of siren?” he asked, voice laced tightly with worry and concern. “I might be able to help.”

 

Gary took his hands away from his head, one returning to press at the central point of the pain. “A warning siren, like a 'no don't do that' siren. Right here.” he said, motioning to his hand on his head.

 

Wendell carefully moved to take Gary's hand away from his head, making sure the Autistic man was okay with what he was doing. Taking two fingers, he pressed them gently to the place his hand was, softly rubbing circles into his hair. It was something he had done for him, to help with the migraines he used to get.

 

He seemed to work on Gary, as he began to blink rapidly. Sweets noticed he seemed confused and fearful. However, the main emotion on his face was adoration. A small smile split across his face, getting bigger as it went. Gary seemed to adopt a new posture, one with a straighter back and still hands.

 

“Thank you.” he said softly, his voice far off from what it had been before Wendell tried to calm his headache. “I think my head feels much better.” Suddenly, his eyes went wide, alarm skittering across his face. “Wait... I... I can remember.” he said, both excitedly and full of concern. He stood from his seat, quickly moving towards Wendell to pull him into a hug. The shorter man frowned slightly, nevertheless hugging him back

 

“I've missed you, Wendell.” he said, voice painfully familiar to the blonde. “Dr. Singh... he took my mind and warped it. Unlocked abilities I've been suppressing since childhood.” he continued, mumbling into Wendell's shoulder. Wendell tightened the hug, both in relief that Vincent was back and in empathy due to the pain he obviously endured.

 

“I never stopped looking.” Wendell mumbled. “Never believed you were dead. I always said I would've known.”

 

Vincent, after a long pause, pulled away from the hug and placed his hands on Wendell's shoulders. “I'm glad you didn't stop.” he said softly, a look of utter adoration expressed through his blue eyes. He may have spent the last three years as Gary Bell, but his emotions easily came back to him, including his feelings towards his best friend. One of Vincent's hands trailed up Wendell's neck to cup Wendell's face, his thumb running softly under his left eye. Wendell gave him a quick look of confusion before just leaning in to the touch.

 

Sweets had slipped away to find Dr. Singh, a pair of handcuffs ready for him. The man was guilty of at least one count of kidnapping, and who knows how many others. Since the facility was DoD-funded, Sweets couldn't get him on illegal experimentation.

 

Dr. Singh looked panicked when he saw Sweets approaching with a set of handcuffs. He prepared himself to run, but Sweets was just fast enough to catch him before he did. Pulling Dr. Singh's arms behind his back, he listed off his rights and dragged him outside.

 

Meanwhile, Wendell and Vincent were lost in their moment, transfixed only on each other. They hadn't really said anything, but their body language said it all. The distance between them was almost nonexistent, Vincent's other hand coming up to cup Wendell's cheek. Without any real warning, Vincent pulled Wendell in for a kiss. It started out slow and caring, and escalated into something much more needy, more passionate.

 

The kiss broke only when Sweets returned from handing Singh over to the NYPD for persecution and cleared his throat. Both men pulled away, faces as red as Vincent's striped shirt. Wendell looked at his feet, Vincent just above Sweets' head. The psychologist rolled his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips.

 

“Guys, you think I wouldn't have notice the way you've always looked at each other? I'm trained in reading body language and emotions.” Sweets told them, not unkindly. He shook his head, chuckling softly. He motioned for the two to come with him as he headed outside. He was going to get Brennan, Cam, and the interns to look Vincent over and make sure he was okay.

 

The pair followed Sweets, hands held between them tightly, not wanting to let go lest one of them disappear. Wendell was thinking again, wondering how he managed to couteract the chip in Vincent's brain and bring him back.

 

Vincent had pulled out his phone and dialled it, putting it up to his ear. When he seemingly got an answer, he smiled slightly. “Ah, Dr. Rosen.” he said kindly. “Yes, yes, it's Gary.” he added, launching into a quick explanation of what happened. “I won't be back in New York for quite some time. My home is in DC again, but if I ever end up in Queens, I will drop by.” he told the person on the other line. “Yes, goodbye Dr. Rosen. I will see you around.” With that, he hung up the phone and placed it back in his pocket.

 

“Friend of yours?” Wendell asked curiously.

 

“Ah, sort of. Dr. Rosen was a friend of Gary's before Dr. Singh brought him to Binghamton. He and four others, Bill Harken, Cameron Hicks, Rachel Pirzad, and Nina Theroux, are all a team of Alphas, with the exception of Dr. Rosen, who work to find other Alphas.” Vincent explained, swinging their hands between them. “Gary was the youngest member of the team, and one of the most valuable. I do hope they can find a suitable replacement.”

 

Wendell nodded along, trying to understand. “So Gary, he was like the X-Men in a way? Five people with superpowers and a team leader?” he joked, trying to make a good analogy.

 

Vincent chuckled. “I suppose so.”

 

Once they reached the car Sweets had been driving, they slid into the back seat together. Sweets was already in the driver's seat, glancing at them in the rear-view mirror with a fond smile.

 

The drive back to DC was rather silent. Vincent had leaned his head on Wendell's shoulder and all but fell asleep. It was almost as if the poor guy hadn't slept in days, and it showed. Wendell hadn't noticed before, but Vincent had purple bags under his eyes that indicated a serious lack of sleep.

 

Arriving back in DC, Vincent had stirred awake, yawning loudly. He looked out the window and smiled, noticing the familiar landmarks of his home. The rest of the drive back to the Jeffersonian had Vincent all but bubbling with happiness. He was finally home, finally back in the place where he belonged.

 

Once they arrived at the Jeffersonian, Sweets waited for Wendell and Vincent before heading inside. Wendell walked a little ahead, while Vincent stayed behind Sweets.

 

Inside, there was no case to work on, so the team was gathered on the forensics platform talking. Finn was the intern of the day, and his North Carolina accent rang through the room clear as a bell as he told a story about a man he knew back home with seven fingers on one hand. As they approached, Wendell and Sweets tried to look neutral, not overly excited or giddy.

 

Cam noticed them enter the platform, Wendell swiping his key card to still the alarms. She stood up, walking over. “Mr. Bray, Dr. Sweets. We weren't expecting you in today.” she said, confusion in her voice.

 

“We went on a little field trip, wanting to show you what we found.” Sweets said, a smile tugging across his face.

Booth noticed the two and walked over, giving them a look that said 'were you successful'. Sweets nodded unperceptive and stepped aside, Vincent giving a stupid little wave. He looked odd in the red and grey striped sweater and jeans, but they hadn't stopped at his flat so he could change. The bags under his eyes rose some alarm bells with Booth and Cam, but Cam was too relieved to pay much mind.

 

Taking three steps onto the platform, Vincent was pulled into a hug from Cam. Once Cam was through with him, Booth patted his shoulder and gave him a welcoming smile. Dr. Brennan, who had been in her office, had come out when she heard a squeal of delight from Angela.

 

“What's going on?” she asked, noticing the back of somebody's head. “Who's this?”

 

As she stepped onto the platform, she noticed Angela hugging the man tightly, obviously very happy to see him. Once she let go, the man turned around to wave at Dr. Brennan, a smile on his face.

 

“Dr. Brennan.” he said, happiness sprinkled in his voice.

 

“Mr. Nigel-Murray.” Dr. Brennan said, unable to fight the swell of happiness and relief in her voice. She stepped forward, wrapping him in a quick hug. “It's good to see you again.”

 

Hodgins had been waiting for everything to die down before he went over to Vincent. “Did you know that there is a 95% chance you could survive a shooting?” he asked simply. He had been researching facts like that for three years, just to see if the odds were in Vincent's favour. They all seemed to be, but it had still taken years to find him.

 

Vincent shook his head. “I actually didn't.” he said. “But did you know that heart attacks are more likely to happen on a Monday?” he shot back. Hodgins shook his head, just patting Vincent's shoulder.

 

Finn was the last to approach him. He'd never met Vincent, being his replacement and all, but he'd heard stories about him from the rest of the staff. Shot in the chest, kidnapped, missing for three years. He felt bad for the guy, even if he was Dr. Brennan's favourite on her own word.

 

“Hi. I'm Finn Abernathy.” he introduced himself, holding out a hand. “I've been your replacement since you...” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

 

“Vincent Nigel-Murray.” the Brit responded, shaking Finn's hand. “It's nice to meet you. You must be brilliant, being two years younger than myself.” he added, flicking his wrist and fingers through the air. Shamelessly, he was checking Finn's file in the Jeffersonian's employee database to see what he was like.

 

Most of the group frowned, unsure of how Vincent knew that or what he was doing with his hand. It was hard to explain the motions his hand made, but they almost seemed fluid and choppy at the same time.

 

When he realized that everyone had fallen silent, his hand dropped to his side. “Oh, hehe. I guess I must explain.” he said awkwardly. Leaning against the railing, he began to spin the tale of his kidnap and life as Gary Bell. Dr. Brennan seemed disbelieving, with due cause. The Alpha phenomenon was kept hidden from even the most well-respected scientists, very few knowing what they truly were.

 

“Dr. Rosen...” Dr. Brennan hummed when he was finished. “Dr. Lee Rosen?”

 

Vincent nodded. “And I believe Agent Booth would know of Bill Harken?” he commented, to which Booth nodded.

 

“Yeah. He was an agent for the New York field office. Got into a fight, got suspended, never came back. But we got reports of him using his badge at crime scenes well after he left.” Booth supplied.

 

Once everyone had finished explanations and small talk, Sweets convinced Cam and Dr. Brennan look over Vincent, mentioning that there might be some sort of device in his head. Finn offered to help, and no one bothered to tell him no.

 

Extensive x-rays were done, revealing a handful of remodelled bone fractures to his hands and legs, which made Wendell wince. He had opted to not help, instead choosing to watch.

 

Looking at his head x-rays, Cam found the anomalous device in his brain, no bigger than a micro SD card for a phone. The transmission seemed to have ceased, but it was still pertinent it be removed. Vincent had agreed to be sedated so it could be removed safely by Cam and Wendell.

 

They took him into autopsy, sitting him on the table. Cam gave him something to numb the pain and make him tired, preparing her equipment. Wendell stood next to him for the time being, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek when Cam wasn't looking.

 

“It'll be alright, Vinnie.” he said quietly, squeezing his hand. Vincent hoped so; this chip had caused him nothing but pain for over three years. He wanted it gone.

 

Cam turned around, a scalpel grasped in her gloved hand. Vincent took a few more minutes to go under completely so Cam could begin.

 

Careful as ever, Cam and Wendell worked towards removing the chip from his brain, which was embedded in the entorhinal cortex.

 

It took a few hours for the procedure, and for Vincent to wake up. When those blue eyes fluttered open, he was on the couch in Angela's office, Wendell sitting at his feet. Wendell hadn't left his side the entire time he was under, just watching him closely to make sure nothing happened to him.

 

Sitting up, Vincent lightly kicked Wendell to get his attention. Feeling the kick, Wendell turned to face Vincent with a smile.

 

“Welcome back to the world, Sleeping Beauty.” he teased lightly, sliding closer to Vincent now that he was sitting up.

 

“Very funny. That makes you my Prince Charming then.” Vincent teased back, placing a soft kiss to Wendell's cheek. “That kiss,” he added quietly, “I've wanted to do that for six years.”

 

Wendell smiled softly, leaning against Vincent. “So have I.” he said, placing a finger under Vincent's chin to turn his head closer to him. He closed the small distance between their faces, pressing his chapped lips to Vincent's. It was a slow kiss, one backed by love and care. Wendell's hand cupped Vincent's cheek, Vincent's hand lost in Wendell's hair.

 

Two minutes felt like forever when they pulled apart, breath uneven and short. Both were smiling broadly though, those smile reaching their eyes. Crystal blue found beautiful teal, gazes locked on each other. They were so focused on each other that they didn't notice Angela come into her office. They also didn't notice her take out her phone to get a picture of the two. Vincent's face was still softly cradled in Wendell's hands, and Vincent's hand was on the back of Wendell's neck. It was an adorable sight to behold, and if she were to admit it, she knew it was a long time coming. Four years, at least, if not more.

 

The shutter on the phone snapped them to attention, turning to face Angela. Wendell's eyes were wide, Vincent was a bright shade of red, blending into his sweater again. Angela rolled her eyes, laughing at the two.

 

“I won't tell anyone. I promise.” she told them. “Cam just sent me in here to check on Vincent. He looks pretty okay to me.”

 

“Hey, Angela?” Wendell said. “You can tell someone if you want.” he stated, turning to Vincent for confirmation on the idea. “Doesn't really matter to me, and I don't think Vinnie cares either.”

 

“I don't mind, no.” Vincent agreed, still looking at Wendell's now messier blonde hair and mesmerizing teal blue eyes.

 

Angela smiled, motioning for them to come see Cam with her. Better to see then hear, she supposed. The duo (couple?) stood to follow, Vincent choosing to wrap the blanket he was given around himself. He liked the sensation, comforting heat on his cool skin. Of course, Wendell was right by his side, so that could've also been a factor.

 

Cam was in the autopsy room, files spread across her computer monitor. Vincent recognized the Binghamton seal at the top of some of the pages, and his stomach dropped. His patient files, no doubt. He didn't want anyone to find out exactly what Singh was doing to him, but Cam would've been the one to charm the files out of the board. He slunk behind Wendell, not ready to face Cam and the information she had.

 

“Well, Vincent seems fine.” Angela reported. “A little more than fine, if you ask me.” she added coyly, glancing towards Wendell. Vincent poked his head around Wendell, just to show Cam he was fine.

 

Cam recognized the fear and uncertainty in Vincent's eyes, so she decided to wait a few days before she talked to him about what Singh did to him. She also noticed the way he was hanging around Wendell, the way he looked at the older man. She glanced at Angela, an unspoken question written in her expression. Angela only nodded in confirmation, causing Cam to nod back.

 

Wendell and Vincent decided to leave Cam and Angela to talk, heading out. Having been at the Jeffersonian for well over a normal shift, they said goodbye to everyone and headed home. Before the kidnapping, Vincent had moved in with Wendell, seeing as Wendell needed a roommate to help pay the rent, and Vincent's lease had run out. It had been the perfect setup, until Vincent disappeared. Then, Wendell was sad in his own home, refusing to walk past Vincent's bedroom. He made dinner for two for three months after it happened, ending up eating both servings himself. Some nights, when he missed Vincent most, he would fall asleep in his room, but that rarely happened. Now that Vincent was back, Wendell hoped that the apartment would seem more alive and happy again.

 

Once they entered the apartment, Vincent made a beeline for his room to change into something else. He didn't mind the shirt, but jeans were never his style. He came back out of his room in a pair of dress pants and a flannel shirt Wendell had accidentally left in his room. It was red and black, with a lingering scent of Wendell's cologne on the collar. Wendell smiled when he saw it. He would freely admit that Vincent looked amazing in his shirt, even with a pair of dress pants on.

 

Wendell walked over to him and leaned in close to his ear. “You look great.” he whispered, causing Vincent to shiver. Oh, he could get used to that. He could definitely get used to that.

 

Three months after Vincent came back, his scientific mind and his Alpha abilities were really helping the team. When he wasn't working with Dr. Brennan, he was working with Angela to track cellphones and Wi-Fi signals, as well as his favourite thing to scan, security feeds. He and Wendell were a couple, the fifth office romance to work alongside each other so well.

 

Even without Dr. Rosen's help, Vincent was honing his abilities very well. He could track a signal faster than Angela, which initially made her jealous, but turned into a competition when there wasn't a case. Angela was getting faster, but Vincent was still faster. They would sometimes bet on their competitions, and Vincent always won. It was usually drinks or a sandwich though.

 

As for everyone else, they were getting used to having Vincent and his random facts around again. No one was complaining by the three month mark, happy to have the British intern back on the team, Wendell especially.

 

Wendell and Vincent, having been in love with each other by the end of week one, were fairly close in their relationship. Small touches happened at work, as well as stolen kisses and quick hugs. Three months may not have been long for other couples, but to Wendell and Vincent, it felt like another three months together, even if it was only the first three.

 

Nearing the end of the three months, Vincent and Wendell had been cuddled together on the couch in their apartment, watching some nonsense on TV as they just enjoyed each other's company.

 

Out of nowhere, Vincent spoke up with one of his random facts.

 

“Did you know that the effects of falling in love are almost indistinguishable from a cocaine high?” he asked, mostly into Wendell's hair. “Or that holding the hand of someone you love can relieve pain and stress?”

 

Wendell chuckled, turning to face his boyfriend. “I love you too, Vincent.” he smiled.

 


End file.
